An Empty Threat
by Gemleaf
Summary: Teldryn Sero has had many clients, and over the years came up with one rule: Never assist anyone with revenge. But something wills him to break it, even as the risks might outweigh the rewards. Will he and his Argonian client survive pursuing such a notorious criminal? Rated T, but may be rated M later (possibly for violence).


Bored, he raised an eyebrow at the opening door, tilting towards the motion. "Another outlander, a..."

He smirked.

The rest of the cornerclub grew silent. Amid the flickering lights and disappearing jugs of sujamma, an incomprehensible murmur swallowed all previous conversation. The patrons refused to look at the arrival but could whisper of nothing else. The innkeeper, at a loss of words, could only say: "What brings you here, sc - ah, outlander?" Silent hostility responded; "N-never mind that. Just sit down somewhere, you're making my customers unsettled." She left a few gold coins on the table and asked for a strong drink. All the innkeeper could do was oblige.

A certain lingering patron had his interest piqued. Every evil look given to her, she returned tenfold. A dagger was clasped at her belt and a bow hung at her back - she wasn't to be trifled with. And yet she didn't walk with full confidence, her shoulders seemed to want to pull her head down, her hands may have been shaking. With excitement or dread, he couldn't know. It was obvious to him what she came there for. Whether he'd accept the inevitable offer was another story. "Good day, Argonian." The audience, who had come to watch the incident out of the corners of their eyes was shocked.

Truly the likes of mercenaries have no standards.

The Argonian's skin was rough and green, but had the strange sheen that was common of her people. Each eye glowed with a reptilian coldness. Surprisingly, her tail was hidden by a cloak and her claws were worn down. Her face was truly what revealed her heritage, shaped after a lizard or dragon. "Are you..." She struggled to find the right phrase, her accent heavy, the common tongue unfamiliar, "One who fights for those who give gold? I was told one of that kind could be found here, 'lingering in a corner like a ghost'."

Adjusting his posture, he met her eyes from beneath the shell armor. "A mercenary? Are you looking for a mercenary?" She hesitated, then nodded. "Then you've been told correctly. Teldryn Sero, best swordsman in Solstheim," he held his hand out - only to have her stare at him blankly in response. He retracted the gesture. "So why's an Argonian looking for a mercenary?

She looked around, "It's a secret reason. We will discuss this somewhere else. You may think of me as Gisen." Underneath the helmet, he frowned. It was something other than safe passage through certain lands or simply needing an extra sword-arm to bring down bandits. If this was an attempt to rob him, it would be a poor choice. Hand reaching towards the sword at his own hip, he sighed - and followed, despite all reservations. She placed another set of coins on the counter, "Find us a place to talk alone." He was already slightly disgusted with her lack of decorum, but was intrigued.

Glad to have the Argonian out of sight of the customers, the innkeeper gestured towards a room where they kept extra stores of food and drink. It was quiet and cramped, the only light coming from a small cooking fire beneath a set of pots and pans. Gisen stared at him intently. "I'm in search of a bad man, who does things that are prohibited... a criminal, as they say in your lands." she looked to him for a nod of understanding, or at least a clarifying question. Teldryn leaned against a shelf, wishing now more than ever that he hadn't kicked his smoking habit ages ago. He was concocting theories about treasures and cults, and this was the actual reason? Why did she feel the need to bring this up in private?

He suspected that he had found another paranoid lunatic. It was time to ask the usual questions that would discourage the common loon searching for a missed payment or debt. "And what was his crime? Is there a bounty? I can't very well just go off and track down someone for a petty-"

"He is a trader of furs and hides."

Teldryn was confused, if only for a moment. A sarcastic quip brimmed on the tip of his tongue. Just as the first words were escaping, he noticed the grave expression on Gisen's face and stopped. Cold, slimy horror crept into the hollow spaces between his stomach and chest. "Care to clarify?" he asked, concealing his shaken nerves with ease. The sellsword contemplated his prospects for such a job.

She swallowed hard and looked away from him, absently examining the various bottles. "The furs and skins of beastfolk, khajiit and argonians, mainly. I have heard him called 'Savage Hand'. Pursuing him will be dangerous, but there is much gold to be made." Her eyes, luminescent and blue, met his. For whatever reason, she was unafraid and about to work with any answer.

"Dangerous is a bit of an understatement, I should think. What reason have I to-" from one of her pouches came a note with a discreet sum written on it in garish, lizard-like handwriting.

"Oh."

...

Teldryn hated traveling by sea. Every new wave seemed to throw his heart out of place, leaving him grasping for a rail and nauseous. Of course the Argonian was perfectly at home among the sailors and their harsh, whispered languages. Her eyes were intense, as though she was prepared to jump into the water and swim if the boat didn't sail fast enough.

He was anxious to see her fight.

The man had fought for many people who had no place out in the world of bounties and bandits. Most, fortunately, just wanted to get safely from one place to the next. However, he had met the occasional delusional wannabe, practically itching to get themselves killed. Something told him that she wasn't either of those kinds - perhaps not familiar with tracking down criminals, but well-versed in combat. He approached her, "Skyrim. What a dull place for a 'fur trader' to hideout in." Gisen was not one for conversation, clearly. She nodded curtly and walked over to the end of the boat on steady legs.

Teldryn, for the first time in a long time, felt himself longing for a more social client. It was one thing to have to put up with constant chatter, but this one operated in almost complete silence. Frankly, it was damn unnerving. He was glad for his helmet, which hid the fact that he was studying her closely. Finally, he resolved to try again (easier said than done, attempting to follow her to a particularly unsteady part of the boat while he was sick). There was no chance for him to make conversation with any of the sailors on board, anyways.

"Where did you first hear of this Savage Hand?" he asked.

Was it going to be silence again? No, not this time. She cleared her throat, "His name lives in infamy in Black Marsh and Elsweyr. A frightening tale for children and a public menace to everyone else. It wasn't long after I journeyed home that rumors and bounties started circulating. Anyone who finds and dispatches justice upon him will be welcome and honored in those lands for a long time."

Immediately he sensed she was holding something back, something that would be important to anyone who worked for her, "He's some sort of kingpin, I take it?"

"I didn't know at the time, all I had was a name..." Gisen paused, uncomfortably deciding if now was the time to tell him, "You should know that this situation is also a personal one. I have vengeance in my heart for him. Be wary of that."

"As long as it doesn't end in some sort of extremely violent incident, I can accept that," he stared into the sea, "I had a client who would make vows of vengeance at the vaguest slight against him. Last time I saw him, he was attempting to fight a whole fort full of bandits alone. But you don't seem like a lunatic, at least not yet." And she chuckled, defusing the heavy and awkward atmosphere.

"A whole fort of criminal-types?" Teldryn nodded, drifting into a monologue about the eccentricities of his last client.

"Oh yes, he was a 'true Nord to the end' type. Wore furs and face paint and said 'hail friend' instead of 'hello'. Would try to compliment me by saying that I was some sort of exception to the other Dunmer. But he was also reckless and always seemed to want to get himself killed. And he probably did, for all I know."

"Well, you'll have plenty of stories to tell about me by the end of all this," she murmured, more to herself.


End file.
